


the entire history of human desire

by CloudAtlas



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Life-Affirming Sex, Multi, POV Laura Barton, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24231238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudAtlas/pseuds/CloudAtlas
Summary: Laura, Clint and Natasha have ‘Thank God you didn’t die when SHIELD fell’ sex.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Clint Barton/Laura Barton/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 16
Kudos: 93
Collections: be_compromised Remix Exchange 2020





	the entire history of human desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperairplanesopenwindows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperairplanesopenwindows/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Good People](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21815794) by [paperairplanesopenwindows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperairplanesopenwindows/pseuds/paperairplanesopenwindows). 



> Thank god the person who defaulted got paperairplanesopenwindows as their recip! I can _always_ write threesome fics. That being said, I didn't even attempt to recreate airplanes' absolutely stellar dialogue from the original, so all in all I think only about 20 words are spoken in the entire fic. Hope you enjoy! <3
> 
> Beta'd by **geckoholic**. Title and quote from Richard Siken's _[Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48158/litany-in-which-certain-things-are-crossed-out)_ , though this fic is certainly less angsty than that poem.
> 
> The entire history of human desire takes about seventy minutes to tell.  
> Unfortunately, we don’t have that kind of time.

The creak of the front door makes Laura's head snap up, the beam of the porch light cutting the living room in two before disappearing again, and she's on her feet in an instant. But that's as far as she gets, the image of Clint and Natasha against the porchlight now coming through the window rooting her to the spot. _They're okay_. She'd known, _she'd known,_ but that knowledge wasn't the same as the certainty of seeing them there, two feet in front of her.

Laura breathes in and it feels like the first full breath she's taken since she'd turned on the TV three days ago to see her former place of employment collapsing into the Potomac.

"Laura…" Clint's voice is hoarse and filled with relief.

"You're alive," she replies, and suddenly that simple fact overwhelms her and she reaches for them, both feet still rooted to the bottom step of their stairs. "You're _alive._ "

Natasha’s hand is smooth and small in her own and she grips back, tight.

" _You're alive_ ," she says again, choked and unable to form any other thoughts. She draws them into a hug, clinging to them both desperately. They are alive and seemingly unhurt and _here,_ and Laura can hardly stand she's so relieved.

She kisses Clint, heated and suddenly desperate for the feel of him under her mouth, for the confirmation from yet another sense that he's _alive_ and _here_ and _hers_ , and Natasha tries to move away but Laura won't let her go, wrapping her arm more securely around her shoulders.

Then Laura kisses Natasha, just as hard and just as fiercely. And, after a brief moment of hesitation, almost imperceptible, Natasha kisses back.

It's like a dam bursts. Clint releases a breath against her neck and begins tugging at her t-shirt and Laura kisses Natasha again and again, pulling her shirt from her jeans and scrabbling at the buttons until she hears the distinctive sound of them hitting the floor.

"Oh my god, you're alive," Laura says inanely, quiet so as not to wake the kids. Then her hands find Natasha's skin and her lips find Clint's once more. "You absolute bastards,” she mumbles into his mouth. “Never do that to me again. I was so fucking scared."

"I'm sorry," Natasha mumbles into her shoulder, "I'm sorry."

"Shut up shut _up_." Laura wrestles Natasha's shirt off, before finding her mouth again, and _oh._ Clint finally gets her t-shirt off and she can feel _skin_ , so much skin against hers. Clint presses along her back, adding to the sensation. He's removed his shirt too, and his jeans, and he's hot and hard and _alive_ against her. Laura can feel tears of relief prick her eyes but she's not going to cry, not now, so instead she kisses Natasha harder, slips her hands down the back of her jeans, and pushes more firmly against Clint, whose hands have snuck into her bra and are pulling and pinching at her nipples.

"Bedroom," Clint mutters into her neck and, yes. Yes. What a good idea, what a _good idea._

They stumble up the stairs and Clint throws a brief questioning look her way as they pass Cooper and Lila's room, to which Laura returns an impatient nod. Of course the kids are asleep and okay, does he think she'd be doing this if they weren't? The thought is unkind, she knows – he's just checking, same as she would in any other situation – but she doesn't _want_ to think about their kids right now. She wants Clint, and she wants Natasha, and she wants them both in her bed _right the fuck now._

They fumble their way through the door, Clint at least remembering to close it quietly as Laura is far too distracted right now. God, Natasha is beautiful. She knew this, but it had never struck her quite as forcefully as it did now. Her skin is so soft, her breasts each a perfect handful. Laura is attracted to a woman perhaps one time out of a hundred but Natasha has always been one of those, even back when Laura tried to pretend otherwise.

Laura pushes Natasha down onto the bed before crawling over her, Clint helpfully removing her sleep sweats and panties as she goes. God. _God._ This was – Laura had never felt so _wild_ , so unhinged and relieved and uncaring of consequences. All she wants is her husband, and her husband's work-colleague-slash-partner-slash-probable-soulmate, and their bed. Right now, all she wants is _this._

She unhooks Natasha's bra and Clint removes Natasha's jeans, and suddenly Natasha Romanov is gloriously naked on Laura Barton's marital bed and Laura feels as though she's liable to shake apart through want alone.

She stretches herself over Natasha, revelling in the sensations, in the feeling of rightness, of home. Then the bed dips under Clint weight and she feels his erection nudge her hip, and a wild desperation engulfs her. She needs Clint in her _right now_.

"Clint," she says, and she's almost - but only almost - surprised how desperate she sounds. " _Clint._ " She pushes her hips up, the invitation clear, and Clint groans, fumbling in the bedside drawer for a condom but, " _No,_ " she says. No, she doesn't want that. She doesn't want a barrier, doesn't want anything between them, not right now.

"Laura," Clint groans, "Laura, honey, are you sure?"

" _Yes._ "

Laura rolls into her back and spreads her legs, pulling Natasha until she's lying across her chest, within reach of her mouth and wandering hands.

" _Now_ , Clint," she demands.

And thank god she married an obedient man.

Clint rearranges them – lifting Laura's hips with a pillow, pushing Natasha further up Laura's body until she's almost face first in the best tits a person could hope for – and the whole time Natasha's hands roam her body like she's reminding herself that _Laura_ isn't hurt. That's she's here and safe.

And then Clint nudges at her entrance, a question and a warning, and at her nod he pushes home.

Laura arches, neck and back bowed, gasping from the fullness and the stretch and the fact that it's _Clint_ , her husband and her best friend and the love of her fucking life, infuriating as he can sometimes be. He's _alive,_ he _came back_ , he _survived,_ and it's only really at times like these that Laura allows herself to contemplate the possibility that one day he might not, that one day an unknown SHIELD Agent with a sombre expression may knock on her door to say, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Barton…"

With a jolt Laura realises that there's a distinct possibility that no one at SHIELD would think to tell her if it was _Natasha_ that wasn't coming back. It makes her tighten her arms around Natasha, makes her tighten her legs around Clint. They're not getting them, whoever the fuck 'they' are. _They're not._ These two people belong to Laura Barton, come hell or high water.

Natasha is gasping into her neck, beautiful quiet sounds that Laura is instantly addicted to, and Clint has found a rhythm that makes Laura cry out and shake. It's so good it's almost too much, and Laura doesn't want it to ever end. Why have they never done this _before_?

Suddenly Natasha lets out a keening whine and Laura manages to crane her neck far enough to see her husband's fingers disappearing into Natasha's cunt. Laura knows that feeling, she knows it _intimately_. The burn and the stretch. How perfectly he crooks his fingers, how mercilessly he pursues his partner's pleasure.

It's too much. The both of them here with her, the indescribable feeling blooming in her chest. She runs a hand down Natasha back, fingers seeking out Clint's, pushing in alongside.

It's the three of them. It was always going to be the three of them.

Laura comes like lightning snapping down her spine, whiting out her mind. She hears Natasha cry out. She hears Clint grunt in that beloved and unflattering way he does. She hears them tumble after her and she thinks _yes._

When Laura wakes the next morning, Natasha is gone. She shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow she is anyway.


End file.
